


Bring Our Love Home

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [178]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past Torture, Past Violence, Polyamory, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:58:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: It had been seven-years since they’d lost Stiles, and six since Peter left to bring him back, and Chris could only sit and wait. But Chris believed that Peter would bring their Stiles back, after all Peter had promised to do so.





	Bring Our Love Home

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a great while since I've last posted anything.
> 
> I need to warn you all, I’m not at my best at the moment. I'm a bit broken still, the impact of heavy grief still lingers but I am trying to claw my way back out from beneath it. If you have a heart, and some wisdom, do take a moment to show some degree of affection to those you hold precious and who hold a piece of your heart if not all of it, for you know not when that one or those few are no longer around. 
> 
> I’m trying to get back to being me, since I need to move on at least a little before April passes without me noticing as did March and a bit of February, which is why I declared I was ready to do another round of 15 Minutes (hopefully this will push me back into writing and updating other tales). 
> 
> To those NOT familiar with this series, I shall warn you all, each tale is written in 15minutes so be prepared for plenty of mistakes, if you can't handle that and crappy writing please save yourself and leave now. But if you can deal with poor writing, and bad grammar, then you are welcome here. Now one of my six friends will give me a path to take when it comes to these tales, and the rest is up to me.
> 
> Now my friend who shall be called this time around Aerospace-Ajar wished for something with Chris/Peter/Stiles thing, with the words of exhausiton, claw, eyes, banshee, owl and head.

` _I’ll bring him back. I’ll bring him back, Chris._ ´ Peter’s promise rang around inside of Chris' head, again and again, as it did daily and had done since Peter had walked into the trees following bravely behind the Banshee.

 With the whispering wind in the trees he walked through the familiar part of the Preserve, not all that far from their house now stood, all built and ready for Peter’s and Stiles’ return. The fine kitchen was perfectly ready and waiting Peter and Stiles to utilize it to its fullest. Chris hardly ever used the kitchen for anything more than to brew some coffee, or to warm-up some microwave dinner that would have Peter wrinkling his nose in disgust and Stiles shrieking in horror. Chris missed his partners in life, missed the way Stiles guarded his and even Peter's health with passion born from experienced loss, he missed Peter's need for fine things and the expensive taste of the werewolf. 

 Chris had finished-up the house alone, followed Peter’s instructions carefully, before slowly bringing their belongings into the finished house all alone.  The house even with all of their belongings, framed pictures of smiling faces just didn’t feel like home to him.

 He’d carefully unpacked all of Peter’s and Stiles’ clothes with care, placing them inside the walk-in-closet, breathing in their scents almost daily even after their scents faded into nothing.

There is something about _this_ cold-night that feels different from years past, if that is a good thing or not Chris doesn’t know as he walks towards the small clearing where Stiles’ had been laid to rest, a clearing from where Peter had left to bring back the one they had lost.

 He finds the clearing empty, frost covering the ground, the light of the moon causing everything to glistening.

 Breathing in a shaky breath Chris settles down for the wait, setting down the backpack down, each-year when the night is right he packs the backpack and heads to wait in this sorrowful place. He unfolds the familiar chair and takes out a few other things from within the backpack before settling down for the wait, the ugly-ass blanket of Stiles’ wrapped over his shoulders as he focuses on the area just behind the trees across the clearing.

Hours pass, and with the hours his hope dwindles, or perhaps it’s more the whiskey laced coffee he drinks to stay warm and awake that starts to drain him of hope. Alcohol has never worked well to cheer him up, his mind often falling gloomy the more he drinks as his past sins and mistakes start to crawl back into his mind.

 Six-years, six-years he has been waiting for the return of his lovers, and he wants to scream up into the heavens how much longer he has to wait, how much more is he meant to suffer before he is granted some mercy from this miserable life of his.

 `Come on. Come on. ´ Chris grits out, his fingers and toes numb from the cold. He wants to move, to walk, to stretch his limbs but he can’t not yet, he has to wait until Peter is back or the sun is finally up and above the trees before he can get-up and move.  

Somewhere an owl lets itself be known which causes him to rise an eyebrow, for that was new, the clearing was always ghostly silent and again he wonders if this is a good thing or not.

 There’s a sudden whoosh of air that comes from across the clearing, right from the direction from where Peter had walked-off, right where Stiles’ grave sat; a grave that held the bits and pieces they had been able to recover, the hunters that had abducted him had done their absolute best to make Stiles vanish completely but there just hadn’t been enough time to do so.

 Then he hears a voice, rough but familiar, shout from behind the trees, `CHRIS! ´

 He is up and out of his chair immediately, knees stiff, knocking the chair he’d been occupying down in his haste and spilling the last cup of coffee all over his own legs. Chris grabs the shovel that had been sitting and waiting to be used, and starts towards the grave of the one that just made him and Peter work; Stiles had been the one to bring Peter and Chris together, but without Stiles they would’ve eventually torn each other apart, Stiles was that missing piece they needed to stay stable and solid.

 Without hesitation, without calling out to Peter, Chris starts to battle the frozen ground that had been trusted to hold the remains of their lover. His back aches, and his shoulders burn with pain as he fights to unearth Stiles, his hands are killing him by the time Peter appears on his hands and knees.

 With his hands alone Peter starts to dig, his breath rattling in the night telling Chris Peter’s return to the land of the living hadn’t been an easy one, and the smell of blood confirms it and yet Chris doesn’t pause to even take in the damage done to the werewolf he loves; no, Chris continues to dig, there’s but a short amount of time that they have to bring Stiles into the light of the moon, once the light fades so will their final chance to save him.

As soon as Peter tells him to ditch the shovel Chris does, throwing it to the side and nearly hitting the Banshee waiting for her next part, and without the shovel in hand he drops down to his knees, Chris starts to do his best to unearth the body beneath the painfully cold ground with his bare hands.

 To deal with all the different aches and pains he suffers Chris thinks about Stiles and Peter, the life they might now have together, he thinks of the reward at the end of all misery and pain.

 Once Chris had his lovers home, safe inside the four walls of the home, he would spend days embracing them both. He’d insist they stay in bed more than out of it, to finally use the bed he hadn’t been able to sleep in without Peter or their Stiles. Sure, they would have to call the Sheriff at some point, and let him know Stiles was back. Chris would be selfish for a while, and he would be so without any sense of shame. 

 Surely, Chris was allowed some degree of selfishness after everything he'd already lost in life?

A desperate laugh of joyful disbelief leaves them both as their fingers or rather claws in Peter’s case dig into flesh, flesh attached to more flesh. A look of “this is it” is exchanged between them, and it’s only then that Chris sees the way the journey had ripped pits and pieces off of his partner in life, Peter looked like he’d been through the wars and with burns and cuts, bruises and dark circles under his now glowing red-eyes, he’d lost enough weight to cause the werewolf to look half-starved.

Together they drag the limp but solid body out of the ground, and even with the dirt covering the naked body of the younger male, Chris can’t help but think Stiles is beautiful; then again after seeing Stiles decapitated head, one side crushed by a heavy boot, and the burned finger that had rolled beneath the old dresser of the cellar, the ring that had held the rings Peter and Chris had placed upon it.

They lay their beautiful boy down on the ground, right at the feet of the Banshee, who without a word drops to her knees beside him, as if to kiss Stiles Lydia bent down. But kiss Stiles Lydia did not, instead she simply exhaled a breath of glowing white light that slips into Stiles body through the parted lips that were no longer burned and broken.

 As they watch, both breathless, both full of hope and a great deal of worry whether or not too much time had passed, whether something had been missed or if they’d made some wrong move, their hands clasp-on to one another, fingers entwining perfectly even when broken and bloodied.

 Chris finds it a great deal easier to believe in miracles, in magic, in hope, together than alone.

 Pulling back, sitting-up straight, the Banshee watches over the body with the same anxious intensity that can surely be seen mirrored in the eyes of the two males.

 `Come on, sweetheart. ´ Peter whispers softly, one hand cradling through the dark hair that was still dirt-covered, `Come on, Love, come back to us. ´

 Holding his breath, Chris watches Peter the one of them who will know whether or not the hear inside the fragile chest will beat again, the one who would hear the moment life would begin to show signs of returning to the young-man who had settle into their lives so perfectly so beautifully.

 The moment Peter leans down, a genuine smile pulling at his lips that quickly place the most revealing of kisses on the set of slightly parted lips, Chris can breathe again and laugh again and feel like another day dawning wasn’t a horrible form of torture.

A tearful smile appears on Lydia’s face, and it’s the same sort of smile that Chris can feel upon his own.

 `He’s back. He’s back, our boy is back. ´ he hears Peter say, laugh, cheer before the high-maintenance partner brought their lips together in a joyous kiss that didn’t last long, but it needed not under the circumstance.

 `You did it. You stubborn, clever, bastard. ´ Chris says without any vicious intent, love behind each word as he cradled the face of the man he’d loved a bit longer than he’d loved Stiles, and then with a kiss on the now healed forehead he says, `Thank you. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for bringing him back. ´

 `He didn’t do it alone, you know. ´ the red-hair says from where’s she now standing, but there’s a small smile she does her best to hide still to be seen upon her face that had grown paler and thinner during her years away.

`Thank you…´ Chris starts but, she waves his words away and simply says, `You can thank me by taking me home. I need a bath after spending how many years with him. ´ she nods in the direction of Peter who was already picking-up their still unconscious lover.

 `Six-years. ´ Chris tells her, her and Peter, both appear surprised by the news and Lydia visibly shaken.

 `Don’t worry, he’s been waiting for you. ´ Chris tells the brilliant young woman who'd helped bring back the men in his life that kept him alive, reaching out to take her hand, thanking her once more, because he knows exactly what Lydia too had sacrificed for them.

**~*~**

They’ve settled into bed, much like old-times, all freshly washed and dressed in clean and comfortable clothes, with the youngest member of their partnership tucked safely between them that Stiles begins to stir awake. And although sleep had threatened to drag Chris down to sleep, a new spark of energy floods him as he waits to see those brown-eyes he’s missed more than he'd ever imagined possible, eyes that had been carved out of Stiles' head and mailed to him and Peter weeks after Stiles remains were found. 

 A whimper escapes the younger male that goes tense between them, body ready for something that he can’t even imagine, but as soon as Peter speaks softly the body once destroyed but now whole and beautiful again relaxes, and eyes flutter-open the fear in them departing once they lock on to Chris own eyes. 

 A sob that breaks Chris’ aging heart breaks free from the brown-eyed boy, and he can only whisper soft words of, `We’ve got you. You’re safe. We love you so much. ´ over and over again, planting the gentlest of kisses on the unmarred skin of the boy he would worship a great deal more this time-around, the same promise he’d made out loud to Peter while they did their best to bathe the boy clean.

_`I promise you, Peter, I swear I’ll treat you better from now on. ´_

_`_ _I’d rather just have you the way you’ve always been. ´_ Peter had said before kissing him softly, each touch and kiss clearing the exhaustion of grief and worry from Chris' body.

It isn’t until the following morning when Chris brings breakfast in bed to his Lovers that he finally removes the chain around his neck and removes the silver-bands that he’d carried close to his heart since they found Stiles’ finger, and he gives Peter one of them, the one Peter had slipped upon Stiles finger not too long before the boy was taken from them.

 `If you’ll have us, ´ Peter says, holding out his hand for Stiles to place his own too.

 `Always. ´ Stiles says, without hesitation, and then he speaks the words spoken when Peter and Chris asked Stiles to be theirs, `Always and forever. ´

 `Always and forever. ´ Peter says before placing the small piece of silver that Stiles had accepted once before, and did again.

 


End file.
